


My Brother Beside Me

by Joseshin



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Family, Feels, Gen, Seriously Thorin is not the only one without a brother!!, We've gone slightly cracky, mentions of past death, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3464492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joseshin/pseuds/Joseshin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saw a post on tumblr that was aimed at making one have Thorin feels, but when I read Thorin was the only member of the Company without a brother, I objected.  A look at the <em>THREE</em> members of the company who travel without a brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bifur

**Author's Note:**

> So here's the post that started it:  
> [tumblr](http://damerivi.tumblr.com/post/112319173374/thranduil-the-elven-king-algrenion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strong Azanulbizar angst to start here. Mostly movie canon, with ages being a bit more in line with the books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time publishing fanfiction anywhere.

Bifur sat on watch near the edge of the camp.

Balin had told the tale of Azanulbizar two nights past, and their days had been filled with quiet talk as those who could remember filled in more details for those who had not.  Dwalin had shared on the loss of several kin, Fundin his father and Frerin, Thorin's brother among them.  Fili and Kili had looked at their uncle in a new light, and had stayed closer to him and each other.  As close as they were, the thought of one of them having to live without the other brought such pain that they felt they understood some of Thorin's severity now.  Oin, his voice for once so quiet that others had trouble hearing him, spoke of the burnings.  The first for all those that had fallen in the battle, the second for those who could not be saved afterwards.

Bofur had solemnly recounted of Bifur's return from the battlefield, how the first few months had been tricky because of the injury.  Neither Bofur or Bombur had been the best of students when it came to learning Iglishmek or Kudzhul, but since that was all Bifur could use to communicate with anymore, they had to learn quickly.  How sometimes the frustration came, when Bifur knew what he wanted to say, but the only words he had known for the topic were Westron.  The confusion, when his mind wandered far from his body, and he was present only as a shell.  The worst episodes were far and few between now, thank Mahal, Bombur added, as some of the others looked at Bifur in concern.  He may seem a bit dazed usually, but it was a far cry from the way things had been.

Bifur sat on watch.

The rest had not spoken of what they had been through, too personal for them, and not directly relevant to the war.  Dori had been older than some who had gone, but young still.  With his mother pregnant with Ori, and ill as well, it wasn't possible for him to join the armies.  And after the war was over, with so many dwarrow gone, there were not enough hands to do all that was needed in the settlement.  Money was scarce, and food scarcer.  Nori had begun taking only when there was nothing left, but both brothers wished he had been a little greedier, for maybe then their mother would have survived Ori's birth.

Gloin was too young.  He had been left in Dunland with the Princess Dis.  He had been the fourteenth heir, but the only male of Durin's line kept away from the battlefield, just in case.  Whenever word came of the losses the army suffered, he'd be terrified that this time the messengers would turn to him, just a child, and name him King, last dwarf of his kin.  He had felt so guilty that after the war was ended, his first thought had been that at least there were a few spots still between him and the throne.  Not grief for his friends, family, or his king.

Bifur sat.  And remembered.

Before the war, before Thror had looked at Moria.  It had been one of the few times the Urs had been separated, Bofur and Bombur's family traveling with their da Balfur to a settlement where he could get established as a miner and start to build a home.  Bilur would follow his younger brother later, with his own small family once Balfur had managed to secure a place for all of them.  Bilur would help with the mining while his sons, Bafur and Bifur, did some trapping and hunting on the surface.

Bafur and Bifur were good hunters, Bafur with spear, Bifur with a sling.  The younger would lay low the smaller prey they came across, and used the flying stones to drive larger animals to his brother's spear.  They weren't wealthy, but the family never starved between their father's work and the boys skill.  They had been close, brothers sharing similar but not completely overlapping talents.  They were grown dwarrow, but family stayed together, especially with the loss of another dwarf kingdom making it harder for their folk to make a living.

Bifur remembered.

The orcs had swept down from the mountains to the East, the dwarven settlement caught unaware.  The dwarrow put up a good fight, but many were overwhelmed by the sheer number of Morgoth's spawn that had come upon them.  Bifur and Bafur had been hunting, separated.  Bifur had gotten lucky, he had encountered very few orcs on his run, and he was able to keep quiet enough to sneak around and dispatch them with his sling.  He was unhurt, but each orc had slowed him, so by the time he actually returned to the settlement, the fighting was done.  He stopped in the doorway of the ruined house his family had been planning on leaving in a few weeks time.

Bilur had gone down fighting, mining pickaxe covered in black blood.  It appeared that the orcs had simply crowded him in the limited space of the hut, and taking away the advantage of his longer weapon, simply mobbed him.  The fatal blow stretched across his throat, ragged from a crude blade.  Broken furniture and several orc bodies lay around him, testament to his struggle in those last moments.  Bafur had not had the same chance.

Bifur remembered, clutching the boar spear tighter.

Bafur had always had Bifur to warn him when something was coming when they were hunting.  He had gone in, desperate and attempting to do anything to protect their property. Bafur never saw the blow that killed him, an orc straggler stabbing him through the heart from behind as he stepped into the house.  By the time Bifur had come back, both bodies were cold, Bilur's pickaxe still in hand, but Bafur had dropped his spear as he fell.  Bifur made sure his father was buried with the pickaxe, but he gave his brother the sling when he was returned to the stone.  The spear Bifur kept, and learnt how to use it, not only to hunt, but to kill orcs as well.

When the call came to reclaim Khazad-dum, Bifur went.  He had seen Balfur and his cousins travel west to look for better prospects, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the mountain region just yet.  Bifur joined the king's army, and fought for all seven years of the campaign.  It was at Azanulibizar that a moment of clarity came to him, where he looked at the grim dwarf warrior he had become, and thought that his father and brother would barely recognize him.  Then there was an axe.

Bifur held the boar spear.  Looking at his sleeping cousins.

The axe changed everything.  His focus could not be held the way it once had.  He remembered his revelation though, and went back to the family that was left.  Balfur had been injured in a mining accident before the war, and it had killed him while Bifur was away.  Bofur and Bombur had been glad to see him, even with the added difficulties the axe had caused.  Bifur was different now.  He did his best to help, as Bofur and Bombur grew.  His cousins would not hear of him living alone, their worry over him strong.  Even when Bombur fell in love, and later courted and married his lovely Harja, the two siblings insisted on Bifur staying with them.  Harja held no objection, her own family long journeyed to the Halls of their Maker.

Even without the changes the axe had brought, Bifur was not the dwarf he had been.  When he was present in his own mind, he was far more serious than before.  The carvings he worked on now were darker than the toys he had made as a dwarfling, conversations with Bifur tended to leave one brooding, when they had used to send the other speaker into gales of laughter.

Bifur watched over his cousins.

He was loved by his family.  Bofur, Bombur and Harja cared deeply, and the little ones adored their grim older cousin.  Bifur doted on them all, but he could not forget.  He had once been a little brother.  He would not allow his cousins that feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Balur, Bilur, Balfur, and Harja are mine. Anything you recognize belongs to The Professor.


	2. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking in Rivendell. Mentions of past death, war, and musing about possible loss and grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. My original work has been consuming all of my muse energy lately, either seriously or with crack spinoffs of my storyline. It's bad when your characters insist that they're ready for a crossover and you haven't even published them yet. *facepalm*

Thorin watched his nephews chase each other around the courtyard in Rivendell, Kili having stolen something from his brother's pockets.  He shook his head as Fili tackled Kili.  A chuckle from behind had Thorin turning, and when Dwalin sat next to him on the stone bench, he raised an eyebrow.

"Something to share?"

"Just remembering two other royal idiots," the tattooed dwarf shrugged, "I seem to remember someone doing the same thing with your hair clips whenever he had the chance."  Thorin snorted.

"Like you were any better with Balin.  Younger brothers are born to be thorns in the sides of their elders."  Thorin grinned, then sobered.  "Frerin... Durin's beard, _Kili_ is older than my brother was."

"Kili is older than we all were at Azanulbizar, Thorin.  He and Fili both are grown."  Dwalin shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder how our fathers let us fight so young, the lads are more than twice my age during the war.  You and Dis didn't even let them join the patrols around our halls in Ered Luin until they were into their sixties."  He nodded at the princes wrestling in front of them, Kili jumping up and evading his brother's grip as the chase began again.

"They deserved what childhood we could give them.  All of our young deserve that much."  Thorin looked back at his nephews, then stood to leave.  Giving Dwalin a nod, he walked away from the gardens, down the halls of Rivendell.

 How long had it been since he had thought about Frerin?  There was a time, not long after the war, when he couldn't look behind him without thinking to see a flash of golden hair, a grinning smile on a small face.  Then he would remember the pyres, flames reaching high long into the night, and the ghost scent of flesh and bone charring made him gag.  It was a personal shame to him that he couldn't find enough stone to at least give Frerin a cairn.  Some years after the war, he had begun to hear folk refer to their fallen relatives with pride, that being a burned dwarf was an honor, for they had died defending the honor of their first home, and of the seven families.  But he could never refer to Frerin so.  The memories hurt too much.  He knew that Dis rarely spoke of their brother to her sons, respecting his pain.  Others followed her example, refraining from mention of the fallen prince around the acting king, especially after Thrain disappeared.

Now there were few who would even whisper of Frerin in his presence.  He knew that it hurt his sister that their middle sibling had been all but forgotten, and that the only reason she allowed her sons to go with him was that there would be whispers if she hadn't.  He swore to her that he would see her two children home, even if it cost him his life, but he knew the boys had promised the same of him to her.

As Thorin thought to himself, walking down the long, airy corridors of Imladris, he paid little attention to his surroundings.  Unusual, for him to be so unaware of what happened around him, particularly in this home of elves, he didn't notice the sounds of pursuit coming from behind him until it was too late.

" **KILI**!!  By the Maker and the Seven Fathers, when I get my hands on you-!"

Thorin only started to turn when his younger nephew rounded the corner, looking over his shoulder and cackling.  Kili turned to face forward, eyes widening as he realized who was right in front of him.  He tried to jerk upright, to stop, anything, but momentum won out and he slammed into Thorin.  They both tumbled to the floor.  Fili, who was closer than Thorin had thought, turned the corner, saw the pileup, and in trying to avoid them, tripped over his boots and landed on top of both.

The two brothers stared in horror at their uncle, who blinked owlishly at them both.  They immediately started trying to untangle themselves, babbling apologies and excuses as they pulled each other and Thorin upright.

"Uncle!  We-"

"Thorin I can't believe-!"

"-we didn't see you-"

"Kili you idiot, should just-"

"-sorry I was going so fast-"

"-have given back my clip-"

"-wasn't watching properly-"

"-I was trying to get it back-"

Their eyes fixed on the floor in front of his boots, they didn't see the smile that spread over Thorin's face, or the mischief in his eyes.  Darting forward, he snatched the clip from Kili's grasp with one hand as the other deftly slid into dark hair and pulled out it's match.  Spinning around, with twin gaping faces behind him, he taunted.

"You want them?  You'll have to get them!"

He sped down the hall.  There was a moment more of silence behind him, then:

"Hoy!  I stole that fair and square, give it back!"

"Uncle, get back here, that's mine!"

No one would have believed the grin that Thorin had if they had seen it.  After all, why should little brothers get to have all the fun?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely expected this entire chapter to be an angst-fest. This is Thorin we're talking about after all. Magnificent idiot that he is. Got just a touch cracky there at the end. ^^;

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
